


Collared

by Sarah_Startling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Dominant/Submissive, Dubious Consent, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Magic Enslavement, Owner Lucius, Rough Sex, Sex Magic, Slave Hermione, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23014909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah_Startling/pseuds/Sarah_Startling
Summary: Voldemort won the war after the death of Harry Potter. Survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts were quickly rounded up and sold as slaves to the victors. Hermione Granger finds herself bought and paid for by a mysterious owner, who uses unusual methods to get what he wants out of his belongings.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 34
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter 1

**Part I**

The damn collar is the worst part of this entire situation. It chafes my tender skin, a constant reminder of my servitude. I can feel the scar forming, and it’s impossible to sleep comfortably with the metal jabbing into my skin.  
  
Not that I sleep well in the holding pens, anyways. Ugh, holding pens. As if we are cattle to be sold because we lost the war. We will be auctioned off to the Pureblood families, and used to replace the very House Elves that we fought so bravely to liberate.  
  
The auctions are happening very soon, I think. Slowly but surely, the disgusting environment that we’ve been housed in has been cleaned up. I was actually given a full meal yesterday- perhaps an effort to fatten us up. We can’t look too horrifying, or the rich people looking to purchase a luxury item will pass us over.  
  
My mind reels at the thought of being sold. There’s only misery and mistreatment ahead of me, no matter how I try to frame it.  
  
My hair is matted and dirty. I rake my filthy fingernail through it, attempting a futile gesture that used to calm me down in times of stress. It snags impossibly on my thick curls, and I mutter a string of curses under my breath.  
  
If I had my wand, I’d be out of here before they could say the word “revolution.”  
  
I shake my head, berating myself for wasting time on what-if’s. I have but minutes to spare before I am carted off to the auction. I shouldn’t waste what precious little time I have left daydreaming of freedom.  
  
I settle back against the dingy wall, as far away from the door as possible. All of my cell-mates have already been dragged out and sold off. I am left in solitude, and without a single hope to my name. My predecessors left kicking and screaming. They didn’t want to give the guards the satisfaction of an easy walk to the auction block.  
  
To be frank, I have no idea how I’ll react when my time is up. I send out a prayer to the old gods, and a few of the new ones, that I at least don’t break down and cry. I would give anything to at least keep my tears sacred from them.  
  
I close my eyes, breathing slowly through my nose.  
  
I hear footsteps.  
  
A creaky groan emits from the heavy door.  
  
It’s time.  
  
Before me stands a guard in a sharp, pressed uniform. His cologne hits me like a freight train, and my stomach rolls. He twists his wand, and the collar around my neck gives me a ferocious bite of pain. I am meant to stand up and follow. I am not meant to resist.  
  
I get to my feet, and somehow, a calm settles over me. My joints crack as I raise myself to my full height, but I do not allow myself a grimace. I press my palms against my ragged clothes, as if there’s anything that could be done to make them less filthy.  
  
Head held high, I walk to the guard. He flicks his wand, and shackles twist around my wrists. I refuse to give him even a passing glance. One more flick, and my legs are shackled as well, with just enough length to allow me to walk.  
  
I straighten my shoulders.  
  
He turns on his heel, and I follow, feeling as much like an animal being led to slaughter as I do a deposed Queen, on her way to the executioner.

∞

To my utter surprise, I am taken into an antechamber instead of directly into the auction. There’s a few people there already - prisoners, like me. The difference is that they are all in fresh clothing, with clean faces and combed hair.  
  
I’m led to a basin of clean water. I need no urging, and I plunge my hands in. The water is tantalizing cool against my chafed and blistered skin. A bit of cloth is pushed into my hands by another guard, and he gestures at my face. Tears form behind my eyes at the softness of the cloth against my skin, but I force them away. A bit of kindness mustn’t undo me. The battle is still ahead.  
  
The cloth is taken away, and in its place I am given a comb. It’s a feat getting my hair combed through while still shackled, but in moments I feel almost human again.  
  
I’m shoved behind a screen, and for a brief moment, the shackles fall away from my wrists. A plain, grey dress is shoved into my hands. I relish the chance to rid myself of the filthy clothes that I’ve been in for days on end. I slip them from my body, and from the other side of the screen, I hear a gruff “Scourgify!”  
  
The filth on my body disappears. I pull the dress over my head, and beat back the small smile that has begun at the corners of my mouth.  
  
Not that I have to worry about that long. The shackles reappear around my wrists, and I am led to the end of a line. All of the prisoners have downcast eyes, bent heads and twisted shoulders. Any trace of a smile is banished from my face. For a moment, I had forgotten where I am, what this is.  
  
The door at the far end of the room opens, and the prisoner at the front of the line is led through it. We shuffle forward, filling the empty space.  
  
The next few minutes fly by. The door looms in front of me before I know it. There, on the precipice of my future, my breath hitches in my chest.  
  
This is it.  
  
The door swings open and an invisible force pulls me forward by my shackles. I seem to be on some sort of stage, with a bright, intense spotlight shining directly into my eyes. I want to pull my hands up to shield my vision, but I am pulled forward instead. I’m forced up on a small platform, still blinking against the bright light.  
  
The crowd falls silent. All eyes are on me; Hermione Granger, the brains of the Golden Trio, and one of Harry Potter’s closest confidantes.  
The announcer rattles off my name, my height and weight, my list of crimes against the wizarding community. The auction kicks off at a feverish pace, with people shouting, shoving, doing anything to put in a bid for my owner.  
  
It is all I can do to stand and stare above their heads. I cannot bear to lay eyes on the people who would own me if they could. I clench my jaw, willing myself to ignore the scuffle in front of me.  
  
To the left of the podium, a man in all black approaches the announcer. The auction pauses for a brief moment, and they whisper feverishly back and forth. Finally, the announcer holds up his hands at the riotous crowd.  
  
“My dear people,” his voice is booming, shaking my teeth in my skull. “My dear wizards and witches, the auction for this one is at its end. A private buyer has floo’d in, and we are no longer accepting bids. She is spoken for.”  
  
He picks up the wooden gavel, cartoonishly small in his giant hand, and bangs it on the podium.  
  
“Sold!”  
  
My heart stops cold in my chest, sweat breaking out on my forehead. I am pulled from the platform and shuffled off the stage. Backstage, a tear slips down my cheek and my collar weighs heavier than ever against my skin.  
  
I’ve been sold.  
  
But who bought me?

∞

It took a matter of minutes to process my sale and transport me to the Portkey that would take me away. Looking at the simple coffee can that will take me to my new residence, I can’t help but shudder. I have a guard with me, who will stay by my side until the spells binding me are transferred to my new owner. The guard hasn’t even bothered looking at me, and I feel as if he’s hardly noticed that I exist. I wonder if this is what my new existence will be like: ignored and overlooked.  
  
The rush of nausea sends me reeling as we hit the ground at my new owner’s home. I double over, eyes slammed shut, waiting for the feeling to pass. I can feel the cool air on my forehead, which helps a bit. My guard only waits for a moment before grunting and turning on his heel toward the sprawling mansion in front of us.  
  
The gears in my mind screech to a halt.  
  
I know this mansion.  
  
It’s the mansion that I have visited in my nightmares every night for weeks on end.  
  
My vision turns red and the entire world tilts underneath me. I crash to my knees, gasping for air.  
  
Malfoy Manor.  
  
My guard doesn’t skip a beat. He flicks his wand, and I float behind him, still choking out sobs.  
  
I thought that I was prepared for the worst.  
  
I never could have prepared for this.  
  
We cross the expansive lawn, the wicked manor rising up before us. The doors open as we climb the steps.  
It seems I am expected.  
  
The guard brings me into a sitting room and deposits me on an overstuffed couch. There is a roaring fire illuminating the room, casting terrifying shapes and shadows across the darkly furnished room.  
  
He takes up a post at the door, and I feel the binds around me loosen. I am able to wriggle into a sitting position, but not much else. My knees are stained with grass, and I let the last of my tears splash onto the stains.  
  
There will be no room for tears from this point forward.  
  
The room is silent, but for the crackling of the fire. The warmth does not permeate my body, though. It simply bounces off me. I steady my breathing. Head back, shoulders straight. Mind must be still, reflexes must be sharp.  
  
My back is to the door, but even still, I can tell the moment the master of the house walks into the room. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My vision threatens to go red, but I take a shaky breath.  
  
I mustn’t fall apart in front of him.  
  
I must be strong.  
  
And yet I fear I will not survive the manor, this time.  
  
I hear the slow, steady click of his shoes on the polished marble. His cloak drags on the floor behind him as he walks around the perimeter of the room. He slowly comes into my periphery. A chill blasts itself down my spine as I lay eyes on him for the first time since the Battle.  
  
In a moment, I am slammed into the past.  
  
_There was Hagrid, crying, holding a limp form. My heart shattered in my chest as Harry’s head lolled from side to side.  
  
The boy who lived.  
  
Dead.  
  
My eyes swept the horde of enemies in front of us, standing on the cobblestones with wands outstretched.  
  
We’re going to lose.  
  
I lift my wand and prepare a battle cry.  
  
There, across the courtyard, I find the perfect place to focus my final stand.  
  
The blonde hair and cold, grey eyes give me the perfect target.  
  
“Avada Ke-”_  
  
Lucius Malfoy clears his throat, his long slender fingers tapping on the mantle. He is gazing down at me, eyebrow cocked.  
  
Did he say something? I was locked inside my memories, the smell of cinder and ash and blood once again in my nostrils.  
  
I blink at him, elsewhere written all over my face.  
  
“I will repeat myself only once, Miss Granger.” His voice is steel, unforgiving. “You now belong to me. I own you. Your life or your death is purely at my whim. You are to respond with either ‘Yes, Master’ or ‘No, Master’. Is that perfectly clear?”  
  
My voice is frozen in my throat. I cannot manage to squeak out even a sound, even though I’ve no idea how I would respond to him regardless.  
  
He lets out a sigh. I cannot gauge his emotions. His crystalline eyes give nothing away. Adrenaline courses through my veins, as I tense for how he will react.  
  
He raises his hand, and my body convulses despite my best attempts at remaining still. He’s simply dismissing the guard, though.  
  
“Thank you for delivering my new pet. Now, leave us.”  
  
I hear nothing but a pop, and the guard is gone.  
  
The room is still. I instinctively hold my breath, waiting to see what my fate in the hands of Lucius Malfoy will look like.  
  
The corner of his mouth tilts up in the ghost of a smirk. He crosses the room, to an oversized wooden globe by the window. I watch him with wary eyes as he pulls the globe open to reveal an ample bar. He selects a glass chalice containing a dark brown liquid. He pours himself a glass, then sets the chalice back in its place.  
  
“I cannot begin to express to you how lucky you are to be in my possession.”  
  
A snort escapes me.  
  
He gives a dark chuckle and knocks back a mouthful of brandy. “Consider this the last time that noise comes out of your pert little nose. You are lucky, Miss Granger. Far more than you’ll likely ever understand. I am a hard man to please, but in my house, you will always have a pillow on which to rest your head and food in your belly. Other Masters afford no such luxuries to the chattel they purchase.”  
  
He lowers himself into a leather chair, the very image of a King in repose.  
  
“Tonight will be your one night of reprieve. Tomorrow, your training begins in earnest. You will be a lovely addition to my household, once you’ve learned your place. You will be rewarded for obedience, and punished for insubordination. Remain in my good graces, and I promise that you will live a peaceful existence as my property. Displease me, Miss Granger, and I have every right to sell you off to whichever lowbrow buyer will take you, and you will be very lucky to survive even a single night in their care.”  
  
He studies the crystal glass in his hand, turning it slightly to refract the light of the crackling fire.  
  
“I intend to get good use out of you, Miss Granger. You are mine to use and I will push you further than you’ve ever been pushed - further even than the last time you graced me with your presence.”  
  
I wince, recoiling at the memory of the torture I endured in this house.  
  
He knocks back the rest of the brandy.  
  
“Before I send you off, there’s one last thing.” He gets to his feet, and walks over to me. I try not to cower, and do everything in my power to keep from trembling, but to no avail. He hooks a finger under my chin, raising my head and exposing my collar to the firelight.  
  
He plucks his wand from his robes, a peculiar look in his eye. He places the tip against the rough metal, and murmurs a spell so softly I can’t make it out.  
  
The coarse metal of my collar loosens, and he slips it from my neck. I’m frozen with terror - what could he have planned for me, that my collar would get in the way?  
  
He crooks his eyebrow as he contemplates my expression. I feel like I am a deer caught in headlights, and the car that is barrelling toward me is Lucius Malfoy.  
  
“You are part and party to the Malfoy Legacy. I won’t have my things looking haggard and poor.”  
  
Gone is the awful collar, discarded on the settee. From within the folds of his cloak, he pulls a delicate silver collar that shines in the firelight. It slips around my neck with ease, taking a magical moment to resize itself.  
  
There is a flash of brilliant green light, and I no longer feel the weight of the collar against my skin. It has made itself a perfect fit.  
  
Bile rises in my stomach at the thought.  
  
Malfoy’s voice is a low rumble as he eyes the silver around my neck. “Better.”  
  
His eyes shift to mine, and for a moment, I almost detect something less than hatred. It’s gone before I can put my finger on what it is, though.  
  
He raises one hand in the air, and I flinch, anticipating a blow to my face. Instead, he simply snaps his fingers.  
  
A houself appears with a crack and Malfoy speaks to them without taking his eyes off of me.  
  
“Take Miss Granger to wash, then to bed. Tomorrow is a big day for our new pet.”  
  
That’s when I recognize the look in his eyes.  
  
Hunger.

∞

I’m apparated into a bleak washroom, and the houself sets to preparing me for bed. I’m barely able to process anything, and the houself volunteers no information. I ask after its name, and I get a bleary head shake in return. I fear bringing punishment upon the poor thing, so I go along with its minstriations as best as I can.  
  
Once the remnants of prison scum have been scraped from my body and my skin is pink and sore, I am apparated into what appears to be my bedroom. The four walls are a dark damask green, and against one wall is a four poster bed. There is nothing else in the room, and I do not even see a door. A soft glow lights the room, and seems to emanate from the ceiling itself. The houself directs me to the bed, patting the mattress with an almost motherly look on its face. The mattress is thin, but in good condition. There is a simple green quilt, and a pillow. I could almost cry from relief - I cannot remember the last time I had a pillow to rest my head on.  
  
I crawl into the bed, my emotions rising up in my chest. I did not think I would have a moment of reprieve before the toil of my incarceration at Malfoy Manor began. I am scared, confused, utterly devastated, and ashamed at the relief that I feel.  
  
I’m certain I will not get a single moment of actual rest, so I lay my head on the pillow and watch the houself pop itself away. The soft glow from the ceiling begins to dim, and panic surges in my throat. I’m not ready to be engulfed in darkness.  
  
I sit up, clutching the quilt to my body, and attempt to calm my breathing as the light wanes. Just when I think the last hint of light has gone, an ethereal green light starts pulsing from the collar around my neck. With it, I am hit with a wave of drowsiness. My eyes threaten to slam shut, and I shake my head to attempt to fight off sleep long enough to figure out what is going on.  
  
My fight is in vain, however, and sleep consumes me before I can even lay back properly on the bed. My body slumps over, and a dream overtakes my consciousness.

_I'm on my knees, hands laying lightly on my thighs. The stone underneath my knees is uncomfortable, but not painful. My head is bowed, and my breathing even. I’m used to this. Comforted by this.  
  
He comes sweeping in, not bothering to look at me. And why should he? He knows I am here, and he will use me the moment he is ready.  
  
I keep my eyes cast down, as I have been taught. I can hear him preparing himself a beverage. I inhale deeply, the scent of him a heady, provocative thing. A tremor of excitement courses through me, but I force myself to remain completely still.  
  
I know this will please my Master.  
  
He crosses to his favorite chair - I hear the familiar creak of leather as he takes a seat. At this point, I feel his eyes on me. My heart rate increases, ready at any moment to serve him.  
  
All I need is a command.  
  
The leather creaks again, and I know he is leaning back, studying me. It is all I can do not to squirm as a tendril of pleasure crawls its way down to my core.  
  
He clears his throat. I do not look up. I know better than that.  
  
That I am so still pleases him. His voice is deep, but not cold and hard like when I am to be punished.  
  
“Come.”  
  
The word slithers its way into my brain, sparking another jolt of pleasure deep within me. Keeping my eyes on the ground, I crawl on my hands and knees to his feet. There, I return to my kneeling position.  
  
The proximity of him makes my head spin. I want to reach out and grasp his legs, hold myself to him, but I do not let my imagination get the best of me.  
  
He will inform my every move.  
  
He reaches out a hand, and takes one of my ringlet curls between his fingers. His scent wafts over me again, and I feel desire unfurl further in my core.  
  
“You have been a very good girl.” His voice is a purr, a deep rumble that is the only sound I look forward to any more.  
  
Color rises to my face. I know how much he likes to see pink in my cheeks. I do not speak. I will not speak until he tells me to.  
  
He releases the curl and it falls to my shoulder. “Look at me.”  
  
My eyes snap up, hungry to take in the sight of my Master. Sharp as steel, his eyes delve into my soul.  
  
A low, steady throb of pleasure has begun between my legs. I am desperate for his touch, for his words, for his mind.  
  
He pats his knee and I am up off my heels in a trice. He spreads his legs and makes room for me to settle between them. As is my duty, I place my hands on each of his thighs, palms down, eyes up, ready for his next command.  
  
He looks upon me with a far away kindness. I know he cares for me, as it is evident in the way he has dominated every corner of my body and mind.  
  
The door behind us swings upon and some of my Master’s colleagues trickle into the room. I know better than to turn and look. I keep my eyes on my Master, hands still, breathless with anticipation.  
  
A meeting begins around me, the men as indifferent to me as I am to them. Their words float through my brain without meaning. I keep all thoughts on the man in front of me.  
  
It is his will that I bend to.  
  
Before long, the men filter out, their business concluded. A trill of excitement shoots through me. I know I have performed well.  
  
Finally, my Master looks upon me again. He reaches down and cups my face, the warmth of his hand sweeter than any caress I’ve known.  
  
He trails his fingers down my skin, sending goose bumps skittering everywhere he touches.  
  
“You’ve been a very good girl, pet. I think it is time for a reward.”  
  
My eyes widen of their own accord. He allows a half smirk, then pats both hands on his lap. I get to my feet, then lay myself over his knees. Just settling into position makes me want to moan with pleasure already, and the best is yet to come.  
  
He runs his hand over my bare ass, his touch as smooth as velvet. Without a warning, he brings his palm up and then back down with a snap. Pleasure reverberates through my body as the sting of his palm becomes warmth. I press my thighs together, willing myself not to squirm.  
  
Crack. This time, the sting persists longer, but still gives way to warmth and pleasure under his tender ministrations.  
  
A third hit comes, and it’s all I can do not to cry out. I feel a maelstrom of pleasure beginning to build, and I wonder if he’ll let me have my release.  
  
I have been a good girl.  
  
He sets up a steady rhythm, alternating cheeks and increasing the force of his hits. He knows exactly how to make my body sing.  
  
Then, all movement ceases. I want to cry out at the sudden deprivation, but his swinging palm is replaced with prodding fingers, and I arch my back against his touch.  
  
“Looks like my pet has gotten herself all worked up.” He runs his fingers on either side of my quim, deliberately not touching the part of me that I need the most. Still, his fingers are glistening with the proof of my desire.  
  
“Let’s see if you’ll be a good girl and come undone for me.”  
  
He cracks his hand down against my backside, then slips his fingers inside of me. Stars burst in my vision as pleasure over takes me. He moves within me, an expert on exacting what he demands from me. Within moments, I am on the edge of orgasm, and he begins spanking me with his free hand, all to the rhythm of his fingers moving inside of me.  
  
All I feel is pleasure and pain and want and need and -_

I wake with a start, covered in sweat, as an orgasm rips its way through my body. I lay there, quivering, breathless, the aftershocks still working their way through my body.  
  
What the hell just happened?


	2. Part II

**Part II**

I am awoken by a different houself than the one who tended to me last night. A plain dress is pushed over my head and a quick charm pulls my wild hair into a manageable ponytail. I am groggy, confused, still reeling from the dreams that plagued me all night. Each time I drifted off to sleep, I was hit with a barrage of erotic dreams, all centered around obeying Lucius Malfoy’s every command.

My body is exhausted, my brain foggy. I hardly register when the houself apparates me into a spacious living room. The carpet is plush under my bare feet, and there’s a robust fire in the fireplace. The houself pops away without a word, and I am left alone. 

I shake my head, willing myself to get my bearings. The room has obviously been decorated with the Malfoy aesthetic in mind. Green drapery with silver filigree hangs from the expansive windows. The furniture is all rich leather, with accents of deep mahogany. I can tell at a glance that even the tiny settee next to the huge fireplace is worth more than I could ever dream of making.

I swivel on the spot, taking in the rest of the room. My eyes pass over the closed door, and that’s when I notice the small pillow on the floor, just an arm’s reach from the door. As soon as I notice it, a sharp trill of pleasure shoots down my spine. It’s enough to send me swaying. 

I grasp the back of a couch for balance and close my eyes, waiting for the pleasure to subside. It doesn’t take long before I feel that it has passed. I take a deep steadying breath, and run the back of my hand across my forehead. I have no idea what is happening to my body.

I chance another glance at the pillow, and another wave of pleasure wracks my body, sending me to my knees. I fall forward onto my hands, and just being nearer to the pillow forces a moan from my lips. Mindless, I crawl toward the little pillow, feeling the pleasure within me grow as I get closer. All I can think about is getting to the pillow, and achieving my release.

I close the distance, my body quivering with an impending orgasm, when understanding strikes me like a lightning bolt. 

I am to kneel on the pillow.

Mind racing, adrenaline and pleasure wreaking havoc on my trembling body, I manage to get my knees on the pillow.

The orgasm hits me the moment I rest my weight on it. It tears through me, my head falling back, mouth open, a low keening groan pulling itself from my open mouth.

It’s gone as quickly as it came on, and I am left wide eyed and shaking.

A deep chuckle resounds from the doorway, and it’s all I can do not to shriek.

“Brightest witch of your age, indeed.”

My eyes fall on Lucius Malfoy. He’s leaning on the door frame, arms crossed, a mischievous grin at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m impressed, pet. It’s taken others weeks to come to understand the mechanism around their neck.”

I touch the smooth metal around my neck, the gears in my mind struggling to grasp what he means.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Perhaps you don’t quite understand it, but you seem to have a natural ability to achieve its full effects.”

He steps closer to me, then crouches so that we’re eye to eye.

His eyes are dark and intense, and sparkling with that same hunger I saw last night.

“Good girl.”

Pleasure overtakes my body again, but this time it’s accompanied by less adrenaline. It feels more like a weighted blanket, settling on my limbs and making me feel completely safe and calm.

I manage a nod, and he raises to his full height. “I have taken the day off, to help you settle in to your new role. I am afraid that today will be quite a long day, and I will not have you drop from hunger. If you would be so kind, please take a seat by the window,” he gestures to a quaint table and chairs, “and I will ensure you are fed. Once you are fed, we begin your training in earnest.”

I hesitate, still trying to get my brain to fight past the fog that has settled over it. 

A flicker of understanding passes his eyes. “I made a request of you, pet. Not an order. The collar will not kick in without a direct - or indirect - order. I much prefer to play with my things when they are well fed. Do I need to order you to eat? It can be challenging to eat while screaming through orgasms.”

My eyes widen with understanding. I shake my head, not trusting my voice.

“Very good. I will leave you to break your fast. Please do not tarry too long, pet. I am anxious to begin.”

He sweeps out of the room, and I find I am able to think clearer without his presence. A laugh bubbles out of me, and I clap my hand over my mouth. I fear I am losing my mind. Fear is all I register as I scramble off the pillow and to the table by the window.

I thought I had grown accustomed to the thought of having no bodily autonomy. I knew this bargain as soon as our defeat was made sure. I thought I knew what I was in for, what I could expect once I fell into the hands of Lucius Malfoy.

But this? This is a kind of torture I never expected.

I sit at the table, and a tray of food appears before me. I look at it with trepidation. What if I lose control again when I eat? I know he made a request, and he said I was not in danger of triggering the collar, but I don’t know if I can handle another magic induced orgasm.

Just the thought of the pleasure the collar forces through me makes me wet between my thighs. I scowl at my traitorous body, and take a deep breath. I will myself to turn my thoughts from Lucius’ hand coming down hard on my ass, and robotically shove food into my mouth.

I hardly taste the food at all. I’m a mess of anxiety, the tiniest sound from behind the door sends me a state of near panic. It will be a miracle if any of the food I’ve eaten stays down.

Finally, I can eat no more. I let the fork fall to the fine china plate before me, and I find myself unsure what to do next. I don’t let myself look at the pillow, lest I be forced through that experience again. I don’t know if it’ll happen every time I look at the pillow, or if that was simply an indirect order from Malfoy that I had to follow.

I close my eyes, and attempt to calm my hammering heart. There’s no telling what will set off the collar again, so I can only wait and see. I feel like a caged bird, simply flitting about in the cage of my mind.

I know there is no escape.

The tray of food disappears in front of me, and I know his arrival is imminent. I swallow past a lump in my throat, certain that what is to come will break my spirit.

Unable to remain seated any longer, I get to my feet and begin to pace the room. Surely there’s a way I can escape Malfoy’s clutches. My feet tread a steady path, back and forth between the door and the table. I wring my hands together, cajoling my brain to work just a little bit faster.

On my twentieth circuit between the table and the door, I notice something change. I’m pacing toward the door, and there’s a small warmth that has sparked in the very center of me. I all but skid to a stop on the plush carpet, and the feeling fades. Curious, I take a tentative step toward the door, and the feeling within me is back. My other foot follows, and I find myself at the door, breathless with need. 

I cannot pinpoint what it is that I so desperately need, but everything within me tells me that I’ll find it on the other side of the door.

I grasp the handle and shiver with pleasure as I turn the handle. The door swings open with ease, and I find myself propelled out of the room.

I strike out down the hall, the warmth within me spreading from my core out to my limbs. I feel heady with need, and even as I turn a corner, I feel myself growing wet with anticipation. 

Halfway down the hallway, I almost break into a run, just to have some pressure relieved between my thighs. I find myself at the bottom of a grand set of stairs, and I rush up them, absolutely singular in my resolve to alleviate this need within me.

I pass doors and doors, as if I have lived in this house my entire life. In my mind, I see the image of the particular door that I need. Behind that door is what I must get to. 

I almost fly past it, but a tremor of pleasure strikes me and stops me in my tracks.

The door looks just like all the rest that I passed in my fevered flight through the manor, but I know without a doubt this is the room I must enter.

I grip the handle and almost orgasm from the contact of cool metal on my skin. I gasp, breath shuddering, and force myself to twist the handle and enter the room.

I immediately sense my Master’s presence.

Malfoy’s presence. Not my master. Never my master.

Eyes wild, I search for him, knowing he’s here but needing to know exactly where he is.

I see an expansive bed, but no Malfoy. There’s a series of chains and hooks on the wall nearest the bed, and an elaborate set of trunks and dressers, but no Malfoy.

I whip around and see a low couch, mostly hidden in shadow, but still, no Malfoy. The need within me pulls me back toward the bed, even though I know he isn’t there.

I whine with frustration, his steel gray eyes all I can picture in my mind.

I’m crawling on the bed before I know it, my thighs pressed together as I am once again wracked with pleasure. The sheets are soft beneath me, and I see two leather cuffs connected to the headboard. 

My vision swims as I find myself nearing an explosive orgasm at the thought of the leather against my skin. I crawl to the cuffs, my knees on the soft pillows at the top of the bed. It is all I can do not to moan as I caress the soft leather and the cool metal links that hold them in place.

I slip my hands into the loose cuffs, and a trill of pleasure shoots straight down from my wrists to my clit. The cuffs magically tighten, and the pressure sends me over the edge at last.

Stars burst in my vision as I come undone, my body shaking with the effort of keeping myself upright. Pleasure rolls through my mind and body, waves breaking upon waves, an ocean of good filling me to the brim.

Slowly, it begins to subside, and I blink my eyes in confusion. I tug at the cuffs around my wrists, but their grip is secure. I try to turn my head to see behind me, but the room is still swathed in shadows. 

I hardly remember my desperate flight through the Manor, and I can’t fathom why I thought it was a good idea to cuff myself to a bed, facing the wall, my back exposed to whoever might come upon me.

I hear a footstep behind me, and my entire body stiffens. I dare not look over my shoulder. I know those steel gray eyes are raking their way up and down my body.

I hope he’s pleased with me.

I shake that thought from my brain, my teeth clamping painfully on my lower lip. I cannot let him get inside my head like that. I can’t afford to lose myself to this man. I fear there will be no going back once he takes complete control.

“My, my.” 

His voice slivers across my skin, and goosebumps erupt all over my flesh. I crane my neck around, and see him staring at me.

His hair is pulled away from his face, his arms crossed over his expansive chest. The very breath is stolen from my lungs when I realize he is shirtless. His pants are slung low on his hips, a dusting of pale hair at his navel tempting me to follow it down, past his belt. His body is taut and chiseled, and there’s that look on his face again. I feel as if he will devour me whole.

His voice is a low rumble.

“You have performed very well, pet. Very well, indeed. I’m extraordinarily pleased with my purchase.”

He takes a step toward me, and I can’t help but to let out a whimper. This brings the slightest smile to lips, and I wonder what it will feel like to have those lips pressed to my center.

He stalks around the bed, keeping his distance, all the while making me pant with desire - such is the force of his gaze.

“Eyes front.”

His sharp command vibrates in my bones, and my head whips around to face the wall. A low, warm rush of pleasure unfurls in my belly by obeying his command. 

I feel the bed dip beneath his weight as he closes the distance between us. He’s on his knees behind me, and my entire body tenses in anticipation.

“There’s no need for such trappings anymore, is there, Miss Granger?” He trails his wand up my spine as he speaks.

I open my mouth to reply, when I feel his wand tap my shoulder. The simple dress I am wearing unravels and slips off of me. I am left completely bare before him.

He lets out a low growl of approval. “Simply perfect. You will be a credit to the Malfoy treasury. With the proper training, of course. But you have my hopes quite high.”

He reaches out and grabs a lock of my hair, then trails his fingers across the flesh of my naked ass. 

“Quite high, indeed. Now, Miss Granger. Won’t you tell me what perverse dreams kept you up last night? I’m dying to hear what your sharp little mind came up with.”

A blush takes over my face, and I feel the flush through my entire body. I’m certain that I’ve turned pink all over.

I feel his grin, rather than see it. “Did I fuck you mercilessly? Or simply touch you until you lost all control?”

I grit my teeth. I cannot tell him how he spanked me in my dream. I cannot let him know how the pain he inflicted turned to sweet torturous pleasure. I cannot.

“It is a wonder you are able to resist answering my questions at all, pet. It’s proof positive of the latent strength Gryffindor’s Princess possesses.”

He grabs my ass, and it’s all I can do to stay quiet. I want his touch - I need his touch. But I am so shamed by the dream I had, I resist.

His voice is a purr in my ear, his breath on my neck all consuming. I swear, he could send me over the brink with his voice alone.

He slides his hand from my ass and caresses my torso. My head lolls back of its own accord, my mouth open. I arch my back into his touch, and he chuckles.

“Perhaps not all that strong, after all.” He grips my hips and pulls me back against his solid form. I can feel the firmness of his desire pressing against me. “Be a good girl and tell me about your dream.”

I can resist no longer. 

“I was your slave. I kneeled for you, crawled to you. You conducted business while I sat at your feet and awaited your orders. When we were alone you-” I stutter on the words, but grit my teeth and push through the shame. “You s-spanked me. And I came for you.”

A gush of wetness follows my confession, and I know I have pleased him. He wraps his arm around my torso, holding me even tighter, and brings his hand up to grip my breast in his hand.

His voice is ragged when he finally speaks. “You cannot know how much that pleases me. The collar does not create its compulsions from thin air. Indeed, it is as malleable as clay. For some it is a cruel mistress, using pain to compel my pets. Imagine my thrill when I found you dripping wet and in the throes of passion as you kneeled on that pillow.”

A whimper escapes me as he finds my peaked nipple.

“Yes, Miss Granger, this is a prison of your own making. Your own desire for punishment and control has manifested in one of the most powerful displays of magic I have ever seen from this collar. You are truly a wanton little slut, aren’t you?”

Unbidden, the answer leaps from my mouth. “Yes, sir.”

He rolls my nipple between his fingers. “You want me to fuck you.”

It wasn’t a question. Still, I nod, eyes rolling as he tortures my nipple.

“Say it.”

I almost come undone at the vehemence of his demand.

“I-I want you-”

He brings his hand down on my ass, a sharp slap against my tender flesh.

“Louder, pet.”

A desperate moan tears out of me, and I force the moan to turn into words.

“Fuck me, please! Fuck me, Master.” I have opened a floodgate that I cannot stop. “Spank me and fuck me and make me yours. I am yours, Master, please use me.”

He brings his hand up and back down on my ass, and my brain all but shuts down. I am all feeling, no thoughts, and all there is to feel is Him.

He sets a steady pace on my ass, at times grunting with the force of his hits. I grind up against him, abandoning any pretense. I feel him grow harder as he sends a flurry of spanks against my flesh.

Stars begin to shoot off in my vision. I know nothing but his hands on me. I don’t hear myself moan, I don’t feel the pressure of the cuffs on my wrist. I am merely a vessel of my Master’s pleasure.

He increases the intensity of his hits. “Come for me, pet.”

His command is all I need to hear. I shatter, back arching, legs trembling. He slows the pace of his hand on my ass, but still I come and come and come. I fear I will never be put back together, such is the intensity of my orgasm.

And then he pulls himself away from me, and I am bereft. I slump against the headboard, the firm grip of the cuffs the only thing upright. 

As quickly as he left, he is back. I hardly register his movement, but suddenly I realize that he has divested himself of his pants. I immediately perk up, my senses flooded with anticipation. This is the moment I have waited for. This is what I need.

He is hard as steel and soft as velvet, and a needy mewl works its way out of my mouth. I arch my back again, offering myself to him with abandon.

He holds himself against my entrance, and I feel that he is already slick with my desire. I press back, urging him to bury himself into me.

“P-please.”

My soft request is all he needs. Slowly, inch by glorious inch, he slides into me. The stretch is the sweetest agony I have ever known. He fills me to the brim, and it is a wonder I can take all of him. 

Once he is in all the way to the hilt, he lets out a soft groan. We stay still, hearts hammering in unison. I could stay this way forever, filled with him and finally complete.

“Oh, my sweet pet. The way you grip me-” He pulls back and slams back into me. My vision dims as he sets up a punishing rhythm, taking his pleasure from my willing body. How he is able to hit every delicious spot with perfect accuracy is beyond me. Yet another orgasm builds within me, and I begin to moan and quiver in his hands.

“Not yet, pet. You come with me, or not at all.”

My pleasure continues to build, but its as if a wall has slammed down between me and my orgasm. A flood has begun within me, but it has nowhere to go until my Master says the word.

He slams into me harder and harder, and it is a good thing I am cuffed to the headboard. I grip cuffs, moans and pleading spilling from my mouth in a steady stream.

“Yes Master, thank you Master, please sir, more sir, please, please, pleasepleaseplease.”

He pace turns frenetic, his fingers digging into my hips as he mercilessly fucks me. I know that he is getting close, and I pray that he will let me come with him.

His grip is almost painful, but that just increases my own tortured pleasure. Finally, I hear a low long growl tear from him, and I know the time has come.

“Come with me, kitten.”

The wall holding me back from my orgasm lifts away, and I am thrown headlong into pleasure. We crash and fall together, and time loses all meaning. He pumps in and out of me for time out of mind, dragging each ounce of pleasure out of me.

At some point, we slow and finally become still. Our breath is ragged, hearts slamming in our chests. 

I am completely limp, putty in his hands. He slips out of me, keeping his arm wrapped around my waist as he releases me from the cuffs. I sag against him, my mind completely blank.

He coos words of encouragement and validation. It could all be nonsense for all I can process, but still, his voice soothes me. 

Once free of my bindings, he scoops me into his arms and carries me from the bed. I lookup at his chiseled face, a hazy smile to match my hazy mind. I realize he is taking me back to my room, so I chance one last look at the throne of our passion.

There, sitting atop my discarded dress, is my collar.

My eyes widen with recognition. He must’ve removed it when he stripped me naked, my lust keeping me from realizing it until now.

Which means that I was no longer acting under its compulsions. 

He plants a soft kiss on the top of my head as he carries me into my room. My bed is soft and inviting, the pillow a welcome gentle caress after the heightened barrage of sensations I just experienced.

“Sleep now, pet. You’ve been a good girl.”

Oblivion overtakes me and I am swallowed by blissful sleep. The last thing I see is the watchful form of my Master, standing vigil over me in the darkness.


End file.
